Unfiltered Story #103597

, , | Unfiltered | January 8, 2018

(We have an Admin Clerk, since we are comprised of several departments. All business cards contain this number because the Admin Clerk knows if we are in the office or not. Today, I am filling in because she is out sick. This was my call. I am not an admin clerk by any means but thought I handled it well.)

Me: “Good Morning, [Department].”

Man: “I left a message for Mr. [X]. Is this also the office for Mr. [Y].”

Me: “Yes, sir. Please allow me to transfer you.”

Man: “I don’t want to talk to him. I want to talk to Mr. [X].”

Me: “I’m sorry about that, sir, I assumed you meant that Mr. [X] was not available and were hoping to speak with Mr. [Y]. Allow me to transfer you.”

Man: “Well why did he not answer the phone? This number is on his business card.”

Me: “This is the main reception and all business cards display this number as reception knows if employees are in that day.”

Man: “So if no one answers, that means Mr. [X] is not in.”

Me: “No, that means that everyone is busy helping customers either at the counter or on the other line.”

Man: “Well, what’s Mr. [X]’s number.”

Me: “I am not sure what his direct line is, you will have to ask him for it once I transfer you.”

Man: “You work there and don’t know his number?”

Me: “Sir, this is the number to reach him. I know his extension and can transfer you.”

Man: “Well this is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Why can’t I call him on another number?”

Me: “Sir, I am going to transfer you to his phone and you can ask him for his direct line for the future.”

Man: “Well why wouldn’t you just do that in the first place?!”

Me: *transfers* …ugh.”

That Is Knot Where I Was Going With That

, , , , , | Related | December 6, 2017

(My parents and I are watching TV, and my dad is absently rubbing my mom’s neck. She’s enjoying it.)

Mom: “Mmm, does it feel naughty? It feels naughty.”

Dad: “Oh, yeah.”

Me: *cringing*

Mom: “No, not naughty, KNOTTY!”

Willing To Pay Taupe Dollar

, , , , , , | Working | November 30, 2017

(I am checking out at a bookstore which offers throw blankets at a reduced price if you spend enough on other purchases. The blankets, all of which are shades of brown or grey, are on three shelves behind the cashier. Neither of us is stupid in this story; it’s just a miscommunication.)

Cashier: “Would you like to buy one of our throw blankets today? It would only be $29.”

Me: “Yes, I would, actually.” *pointing* “I’ll take one of the top ones.”

Cashier: *looking confused* “Top? Is that how you pronounce it?”

Me: *looking equally confused* “Yes?”

Cashier: *reaching for a blanket from the top shelf* “We’ve been saying ‘taupe.’”

Their Humanity Is Not Up To The Mark

, , , , , , | Friendly | September 7, 2017

(I have a stork bite [red birthmark] on my forehead and down the side of my nose. I’m working the check-out, and am ringing up an older gentleman. Everything is going fine until…)

Customer: “You have something on your face.”

Me: “Oh, you mean my birthmark?”

(The man thinks for a bit, then leans right in and pokes me hard on my forehead.)

Customer: “That’s where God said, ‘I.’” *pokes me hard* “’Hate.’” *pokes me hard again* “’You.’” *pokes me hard one last time*

(The man then happily grabbed his purchase and walked out. I was too stunned to say anything.)

Pardon My French

, , , , , | Friendly | August 31, 2017

(I grew up a Cajun in Louisiana, so I’m fluent in Cajun French. My family knows a lot about our history, including how our ancestors lived in Nova Scotia, and were victims of the Expulsion of the Acadians. I’m visiting a friend in Wolfville while she’s in college, when she suddenly has an idea.)

Friend: “Hey, [My Name], I actually have another friend who can speak French, wanna meet them?”

Me: “Um… I don’t know, the French I speak is very different, from what I’ve heard.”

Friend: “Nah, don’t worry, she’ll understand you.”

(She takes me to said friend’s house, who, when she opens to door, gives a very confused look to me and an annoyed look to my friend.)

Friend: “Well, go on, talk to her.”

Me: *in Cajun French* “Hi there, nice to meet you. [Friend] says that you speak French.”

(The girl looks at me in confusion, and when she talks back to me in French, I can only pick out a few words. We can only stare at each other in confusion.)

Friend: *now getting annoyed* “Well, why aren’t you guys talking?

Me: “I can’t understand her French…”

Friend: “What do you mean you can’t understand her French? It’s French! You said you spoke it!”

Girl: *sighing, then speaks in English* “[Friend], I told you, you aren’t invited to my sorority party, and bringing someone who speaks French isn’t going to change it. And by the way, there’s different types of French.”

Friend: “Well, fine! I didn’t want to go anyway. I should’ve known better than to ask some dumb American to help me! Come on, [My Name].”

Girl: “Oh, by the way.” *points to me* “You can come to my party. I’ve never heard that kind of French before.”

(My friend stomped off and refused to talk to me the rest of the day. Because it would be rude not to, I did show up to the party, where I got swarmed by people who wanted to hear how Cajun French sounded. Turns out, there were some people there [including the girl who invited me] whose ancestors were also victims from the Expulsion, where their families either hid from the British, or came back to Nova Scotia pledging allegiance. I later returned to Louisiana and cut ties with my “friend” for good, but I did gain a few new friends.)

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